Affection.

1

For: Lalicious.

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It's the smell of your hair, the soft, silky texture of your slightly sweaty skin as you're pressing against me, warm and responding that's stealing my breath.

You're an asshole. Sometimes I just wanna beat the living shit out of you when you start the bitching, the sassiness, when you're making us wait for hours again.

The 'this and that and that's not working for you' - "Shut the fuck up and sing", I will say.

And I mean it.

But not now. Never when you are clinging to me like that, breathing sweet words into my ear, all hushed, husky, lust filled.

I admire you, worship you.

I'll bury my hand to your hair, softly pull your head back, exposing the white, pearly skin of your throat. Your mouth will fall open, an almost silent, breathy hiss leaving your parted lips.

I will kiss them, let my tongue brush over your bottom lip, tasting you, sucking in every hum, every quiet sound of amazed surprise.

Cause' that's what you always are- surprised, overwhelmed. I do not know if you regret it afterwards, but I don't and from the way you're looking up into my face through hazy, glassy, emotion filled eyes I can say you may regret it afterwards, but never now and then.

You don't say it though, you never do, but your pulse is talking to me.

"Fuck me", I will say but what I mean is "hold me, love me" and you do.

You always do.

It's warm then, sticky, heated, the air filled with my pleading moans and you just make me fall.
Sometimes I'm on my knees, but what really gives me shivers is the sight of you above me, the dim lights catching in your long, copper hair, making it shine and more red than ever.

I see your face, your cheekbones, your jaw, looking like a painting, but softer, moving, vivid. I look back into your eyes, holding your gaze, watching those parted lips again, hearing your soft moans, deep, resonating, vibrating through my chest and directly to my crotch.

You're exposed, I am, and I hold you near, bathing into your very presence.

It makes me drunk.

More drunk than anything, more than every drug I can use.

When I come I'm full of images, scents and that hazy certainty that you're the most beautiful human being I can imagine.

The long, dull hours between day and night, the early mornings in the semi dark. Whispered words and tender touches, tears sometimes and your warmth that never seems to vanish.

I love you then.

Everything and every tiny little piece of your soul.

When you leave I sometimes hate you. I drink and curse and play those goddamn shows. I watch you sing, all those emotions dripping from those written words. You will look at me, in front of everyone, in between all those people, but they won't count.

They never did.

It has always been you.

"Fuck you, Axl", I say, but it doesn't matter if I say go fuck yourself or you are beautiful to me.

It doesn't matter if I insult you, shout at you or if I curse my despair against you warm, swollen lips.

It's affection.

And you are everything I need.